You're Not Just a Pretty Girl
by Chasing Liquor
Summary: It's one of those days where McKay's sanity is hanging on by a thread. Naturally, Keller comes to the rescue. McKeller.


**Disclaimer**: Take a bow, MGM.

**Spoilers: **Nothing comes to mind.

**Description:** It's one of those days where McKay's sanity is hanging on by a thread. Naturally, Keller comes to the rescue. McKeller.

**A/N**: Yeah, I've written another one. I think this is getting out of hand. I'm always appreciative of feedback, of course, so leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks.

* * *

**You're Not Just a Pretty Girl**

* * *

It was one of those days. Though, admittedly, if you asked around, he had more of them than most. But it never ceased to amaze him just how thorough and pervasive the incompetence in his department was. The only one of any repute was Zelenka, and even _he'd_ made a fairly serious blunder recently.

For all the funding and all the infuriatingly expansive oversight of the Atlantis expedition, sometimes the personnel choices were truly baffling. His job was difficult and laborious enough without triple-checking the work of imbeciles. And sleep and his temper were becoming predictable casualties of his efforts.

He looked over the power distribution readouts, sighing heavily and tossing the computer tablet onto the table with disgust.

"Drummond!"

Across the room, a slick-haired man in his early thirties cringed, turning back to face McKay, who swiveled his chair about.

"Would you care to explain the utter stupidity of having five uninhabited miles in the East Pier _fully powered_ and taxing the ZPM?"

Drummond had the good sense to lower his eyes.

"I… I didn't realize I'd done that. I must have been… in a hurry."

"In a _hurry_?" McKay snapped in astonishment. "This isn't your laundry, Drummond, or heating up a Hungry Man dinner! This is the power supply of the city we live in. You know, the one the Wraith – and God knows who else – would love to _destroy_ at a moment's notice? If I hadn't checked this, then the East Pier would have been draining the ZPM for a _week_!"

Across the table, Zelenka softly interjected, "Rodney, it was a simple error. Anyone could have – "

"Save it, Radek! This isn't _one_ mistake. This is a pattern of mediocrity and neglect that is actively endangering everyone on Atlantis."

McKay stood up, looking around at the faces of his staff, who all stared stunned at his outburst, which was more volatile than usual by a factor of five.

"Am I the only one with even a shred of understanding about how serious the work we do is?! There are people's lives in our hands! Now, I'm _so sorry_ if you think things like proper planning of power distribution are beneath your attention, but if you can't even show yourselves to be capable of dealing with something that microscopic in difficulty, then how the hell do you expect to be of _any _use to me – _any use_ – when the _Wraith_ get here?!"

An awed, awkward silence filled the room when he was finally done shouting. The subordinate scientists would sooner have surrendered their muscles to atrophy than risk even the slightest twitch.

McKay took a series of heavy breaths, like he'd just run a sprint, and his head was throbbing from his own exclamations. Everyone was looking at him; they appeared genuinely frightened. It had been like this in the early days, but not lately. He'd been much calmer, gentler for the most part the past year or two. Old feelings came rushing back.

While he stood there, these things running through him and other things running through the rest of them, the door to the lab slid open, and the young Doctor Keller walked blind into the verbal massacre.

She stood just inside the lab, pausing when she saw the uncomfortable tableau. It looked like a game of Dead Fish.

McKay didn't seem to notice her arrival, but a few of the other scientists did. Zelenka, ever the diplomat in these matters, turned his eyes on the physician in desperation.

"Ah! Doctor Keller," he called out, louder than was polite. "What brings you down here?"

The chief scientist finally took notice, glancing over at her with a look of – she couldn't quite place it. Was it embarrassment, shame, despair, need? Maybe some of all of them.

She looked around the room awkwardly, before finally bringing her eyes back to McKay.

"I was just… seeing if you wanted to get some lunch."

Before McKay himself could conceive of a reply, Zelenka answered on his behalf, "Yes! Yes! Lunch. That is a great idea. Don't you think, Rodney?"

The astrophysicist took a moment, then nodded docilely, avoiding everyone's eyes as he slowly walked toward the door. Keller, frowning now with confusion and concern, took him by the arm and led him toward the door.

"Take him away," the Czech mumbled to himself, "to a galaxy far, far, far away."

* * *

She didn't say much on their walk to the commissary. It wasn't usually a good idea to get into things in transit, especially with McKay. She waited until they'd both gotten their meals, which were chosen and plated in companionable silence, and sat down, before finally seeking clarity.

"You okay, Rodney?"

He was lucid now, not dazed like she'd first found him, and he nodded, though it wasn't particularly convincing, nor were the words that followed.

"Fine, fine," he said quietly. "How are things with you?"

"They'd be better if you wouldn't lie to me."

He looked up from his chicken at that, expecting to see an annoyed glint in her eye, but finding none. She had to be the most patient person on this planet or any other. He might have been just the opposite. Strange, wasn't it, that the antipodes were having lunch?

"I'm just…" He sighed, shaking his head vehemently. "I'd really rather talk about you right now."

"Rodney..."

"Please?"

She watched him carefully as she took a sip of her water, seeing the pleading look on his face, and not for the first time and most certainly not the last, finding herself unable to resist it. With a relenting nod, she did her best to adopt a pleasant disposition for McKay's sake.

"Well, I think we're making some headway on that vaccine for the sickness the Athosians picked up."

"Really?" he remarked, sounding genuinely impressed. "You've only been working on it for a week."

"Caught some lucky breaks, I guess."

McKay scoffed.

"Lucky breaks? Please. You're brilliant. Luck has nothing to do with it."

Keller smiled, no longer in awe of, but still wooed by the undying faith he seemed to possess in her. She wasn't sure it was deserved, but she'd not have traded it for anything. He always made her feel like they were intellectual equals, and like she was indispensable. Neither were probably true, but just the fact that he thought so…

"Well, thanks," she said, a mild color in her cheeks. "You're too kind."

McKay grunted self-deprecatingly.

"You're probably the only person in the universe who thinks so."

Keller frowned, studying his worry-creased face. He was clearly troubled, and it likely had to do with the uncomfortable scene she'd witnessed in his lab. Whatever it was, he needed to talk about it, even if he didn't want to.

"Something happen earlier?"

He looked about to dismiss the question, so she called upon her most underhanded of tactics: the earnest, doe-eyed "I'm just trying to help" expression. It had never failed to sway McKay in the past, and it didn't fail in this instance either.

"I had a… minor altercation," he said with a sigh.

"What about?"

"Some incompetent hack had five miles worth of uninhabited city powered and draining the ZPM."

Keller smiled knowingly.

"I assume you gave him a good-natured pep talk?" she joked.

"Well, he had it coming!" McKay insisted. "I mean, the stupidity. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who has any sense of how important what we do is. These people treat it like a retail job. But the things we do could change people's lives at any moment."

Keller nodded sympathetically. She understood.

"It's hard having so many people rely on you."

McKay's eyes refocused, finding hers. And suddenly he felt like a fool. She knew the stress that he was describing because she lived it herself. But unlike him, she didn't go around shouting at people. She was nicer than him, better than him.

"How do you do it?" he asked bluntly.

"Do what?"

"Not go around yelling at people when they act like idiots."

"I get upset sometimes."

"Yeah, but you don't yell. Not like I do, at least. You're so patient with people," he said, adding, "Me especially."

Keller frowned again, surprised by the last part.

"Rodney, I don't have to _try_ to be patient around you. You don't make it hard for me. And lately, the only reason I'm patient with other people is because I know you'll let me complain about them later."

McKay thought that a stunning admission. It implied that she spent a fairly substantial amount of time thinking about him, didn't it? Or maybe it didn't. Maybe he was just misinterpreting it. He had a habit of doing that.

"You, um… you really... don't complain that much," he said lamely.

"Would you tell me if I did?"

"No."

She smiled.

"Didn't think so."

"Well, I really can't afford to give you any incentive to stop spending time with me."

She shook her head gently, still smiling.

"Rodney, are you ever going to figure out that I know everything about you, and I choose to spend time with you because I like what I see?"

McKay's eyebrows shot up a bit, in awe of her plain admission. He hadn't expected her to say that, and his mind was all at once filled and empty, a collision of infiniteness and nothingness.

"I do too," he found himself saying. "Like what I see, I mean." He paused, replaying the words in his mind and realizing how crude they may have sounded, before fumbling to clarify, "No, no, that's not what I meant. Well, I mean, I _do_ like what I see. Obviously. How could I not? You're beautiful. Not that I spend a lot of time thinking about that. Or too little! But what I mean is, you're not just a pretty girl. You're more than that, and… I…" He let out a self-loathing grunt. "I'm going to just stop talking."

It was only when he finally stopped himself that he saw Keller's wide smile, her mouth slightly open so that he could see a hint of her teeth.

"That's too bad," she said with amusement. "It was starting to get really good too."

A voice over the radio cut off his reply.

"McKay, come in, please."

He tapped his headset. "What is it, Radek?"

"There's a problem with the sanitation system. It looks like Kelso didn't do the diagnostic he was supposed to."

He felt an angry, snarky reply bubbling up in his chest, but much to his surprise, when his eyes fell back on Keller, the quip died there and then, and slowly faded away. When he did speak, it was with placid resignation.

"All right," he said. "I'll be right down."

When he tapped the headset again to close the channel, Keller wore a sly smile and remarked, "I don't know what that was about, but I get the feeling you showed impressive restraint."

McKay offered up a half-grin.

"Well, I figure I can complain to you about it later, right?"

She nodded, her smile lingering.

"Right."

McKay stood up from his seat, grabbing his tray, filled with food that was only half-eaten.

"I'm sorry to cut this short, but I should probably get down there. And maybe apologize to Drummond if I have the stomach for it."

"Sounds like a good idea. Do you want to have dinner later?"

"Um… yeah. That – that would be great."

"Okay. I'll see you later then."

"Right. Great. Later."

With that, McKay walked off, a boyish, lovesick grin adorning his face as he deposited his tray and made his way out the commissary door. Ronon was on the way in, and McKay offered an enthusiastic "hey" that the Satedan didn't return as they passed one another by.

Spotting Keller a few tables down, Ronon made his way over, sliding into the seat opposite her unannounced.

"Oh, Ronon," she greeted with some surprise, taking a sip from her drink. "How's it going?"

He propped his feet up on an empty chair, leaning back in his own and crossing his arms.

"How come you bother with him?" he asked.

Keller looked at him for a long moment, then looked down at her plate and began cutting her food.

"How come you don't?"

* * *

**FIN**


End file.
